


The Day Andrea Came Back

by redheadgrrl1960



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, May/December Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:04:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadgrrl1960/pseuds/redheadgrrl1960
Summary: Two years after Andy left Miranda, and Runway, in Paris, she stands outside Elias-Clarke, hesitant to go inside. Nigel runs into her and she realizes he understands something is wrong. What she doesn't know is that the first person he tells, is Miranda Priestly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes - I know I have a couple of unfinished stories - but this one demanded to be written and who am I to argue with Lucille, my muse. (As in, "you picked a bad time to leave me, Lucille"... LOL) So, bear with me, and I hope I can get my act together regarding the chapters I owe you. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the read!

Looking up the full length of the Elias-Clarke building, easily finding the windows to Runway Magazine’s offices, Andy Sachs found herself getting dizzy. Perhaps it was because the clouds movements that gave the impression of the building falling toward her. She took a step back to regain her balance and bumped into someone. Turning quickly with an apology at the tip of her tongue, Andy saw a familiar face.

“Nigel! Hi! Did I step on you?” She smiled cautiously.

“Not at all.” Nigel Kipling, the creative director of Runway, smiled. “What are you doing in this neighborhood, Six?”

Her old nickname, which alluded to her size of clothes, brought back another flurry of memories. It had been two years since she sat foot in Runway’s offices and still her stomach was tied up in knots thinking of the people working there. And who was she kidding? Thinking of _her_. “I’m mustering courage to go inside.” Andy tried another smile of her own, but the stretch of her lips felt unnatural. “It’s a little daunting.”

“Our offices?” Nigel looked surprised.

“Yes. And no. Perhaps not.” Resorting to babbling, Andy could hardly believe how many of her old nervous traits that surfaced just standing outside these offices. “I’m due at human recourses in,” she said and checked her phone, “ten minutes.”

“Applying for a job? What happened at the Mirror?” Nigel took Andy’s elbow and guided her into the lobby of Elias-Clarke. “Please, tell me you didn’t get fired.”

“No. Not at all. In fact, I got promoted.” Andy thought this third attempt at a smile was more successful. “So, I quit.”

Nigel blinked. “What? You got a promotion, which I surmise means better pay and a higher position—and you quit?”

“Habit of mine, right?” Andy shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’d love to stay and elaborate, but I have to get upstairs.” She gave Nigel and impulsive hug. “It was so good to see you.”

Nigel returned the hug and then studied her closely. “What about drinks tonight, Six?” he asked. “Serena just returned from Brazil and Emily’s finally coherent again. I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

Hesitating, Andy took a step back, tugging at her fingers. This too a thing of the past, normally. “I don’t know, Nigel—”

“Please. It’s been too long. There have been several assistants after you, but you’re the only one we felt were part of the family. Even if I’m not with Runway anymore, I know you’ve been missed.”

“Wait…what? You’re not with Runway? What happened?” Forgetting her nerves momentarily, Andy gripped Nigel’s arm.

“I’m the editor-in-chief of Runway Men.” Nigel grinned. “As of one month.”

“Good for you!” Andy remembered only too well how Miranda Priestly, their former boss and editor-in-chief of Runway, had screwed Nigel over after promising him a lot. “And so well deserved. Better late than never, right?”

“Oh, don’t blame Miranda for this one. I kept putting it off and that’s why another guy got the job when the magazine launched a year ago. The board, and Miranda, kept nagging at me to get my act together and just take the job, but—I had my reasons to take my time.” Nigel shifted and didn’t look keen to elaborate.

“Then we should celebrate.” Andy knew her current smile was authentic. “Seven?”

“Yes. Our usual digs unless I text you otherwise. Same number still?”

“Yes.” Andy’s heart melted a bit as she realized that she was still in Nigel’s contacts. “See you then.”

Nigel kissed her cheek and hurried toward the elevators as Andy made her way to the desk to get her visitor’s pass. She tried to will the psychotic butterflies in her stomach to calm down as she handed over her ID to the guard, but they wouldn’t listen.

 

XXXXX

 

Nigel stepped off the elevator and turned right instead of left. It was still a kneejerk reaction to head into his old office area, but still alien. Emily had taken over after he left and according to Miranda, she did a passable job. This, by anyone else’s standards, meant Emily was nailing it, of course.

He thought of the look on Andy’s face during their brief conversation and the feeling in his stomach said that he was doing the right thing—sticking his head into the lion’s den. There was a lot Andy didn’t know, but clearly, there was even more about Andy that he needed to find out.

Rounding the corner, he strode into the outer office of his former boss. Two girls, both young, thin, and beautiful, sat at their desks, one typing feverishly and the other snapping orders into the phone. The first assistant was of a caliber that Miranda was pleased with, that much he knew. The one typing was new and had a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead as she hammered at the keyboard as if she was trying to push it through the desk.

Through the glass doors, Nigel saw Miranda bent over her laptop. Looking as stunning as ever with her iconic white hair with its characteristic s-shaped bangs, her Prada reading glasses, and, naturally, her on point outfit, there was, to him, clear evidence in her demeanor that a lot had changed.

“Got time?” Nigel asked softly and rapped his fingers against the half open glass door.

Miranda looked up, her eyes going from steely-blue focus to soft-blue affection. “Nigel. Miss me already?” She leaned back into her chin, pulling off her glasses.

“The second I left.” It wasn’t untrue, even if Nigel couldn’t be happier with his new job. “What you up to?”

“Trying to remedy the disaster that was that new photographer’s idea of being innovative.”

“Oh?” Nigel had to smile. This was Miranda as he had known her for so many years. Complaining, but also enjoying the process of it.

“He clearly considered using barely any lighting as part of his artistic license.” Miranda raised her eyebrows and turned her palms up. “He’ll learn, eventually, but until he does, I will either have to reshoot, or rehire.”

“Something tells me you will give this young photographer another chance.” Nigel sat down across the desk from Miranda.

“Now, how can you possibly know that?” Miranda looked surprised.

“Because you’ve yet to call him incompetent and mean it.”

Tilting her head, Miranda smiled at him. “And tell me again why I was foolish enough to let you go?”

Realizing the compliment behind the words, Nigel regarded her tenderly. “Because it was long overdue. And look how Emily hit the ground running. Not to mention Serena who won that Brazilian award just now for her makeup artistry.”

“True. That doesn’t mean it’s easy to run this ship without you.” Miranda’s smiled died. “And why are you really here, wasting away in my office instead of cracking the whip at your own people?”

“I don’t use a whip, first of all, and I should know better than to assume you’d think I merely missed you.” Nigel felt a pang of nerves set in for the first time during their banter. There was simply know way to foresee how Miranda would take his news. “I ran into a mutual friend outside the building.”

“Oh?” Miranda tensed, which someone who didn’t know her as well as he did wouldn’t have noticed. It was the little things. Her lips, the thin skin under her eyes, and the tiniest flutter of her eyelashes.

“Andy Sachs is at HR as we speak. I just thought you should know. Potentially running into her—well, I figured a heads up was a good thing.”

Lowering her hands onto the glass desk, pressing her palms firmly against it, Miranda narrowed her eyes. “Andrea is at HR? What happened? What did those morons at the Mirror do to her?”

Nigel flinched. That reaction was stronger than anything he’d imagined. “Um. She only told me she quit.”

“That was her dream job. She wouldn’t just quit.” Miranda stood and walked over to the window as if she thought she’d see Andy on the pavement below. “Not this time.”

“Not this time? Oh. Right.” Nigel thought of the two years ago when Andy quit in the middle of Paris fashion week. He never knew the full scope of what took place between Miranda and Andy after the luncheon where Miranda gave his job to her arch enemy, Jacqueline Follet. Guessing Miranda’s actions had a lot to do with it, Nigel had always thought there was more to it. He’s disappointment had been the catalyst—not the entire reason.

“What else did she say?” Miranda pivoted and now her eyes were not blue at all. Slate gray, they burrowed into him, demanding an answer.

“She spoke to me as a friend, Miranda,” Nigel said softly, bracing for impact as he regarded her with sympathy.

“And did she specifically tell you to keep this from me. No, don’t answer that. I can find out with one phone call.” She reached for her office landline but stopped when he raised his hand.

“Wait. There’s another, less intrusive way, to learn what’s going on with Andy.” Nigel knew he had to save Miranda from herself, once again. It hadn’t been part of his official job description when he worked for her, but it had become a task he felt compelled to do. This, however, wasn’t just about Miranda, but also Andy who was obviously going through something. Having Miranda call, or worse, barrel down to HR, which he wouldn’t put past her, was a disaster waiting to happen.

“What are you talking about?” Miranda lowered her hand, tightening it to a fist.

“I was going to stop by Emily and Serena and ask them to join me and Andy for a drink after work. You could join us.” His suggestion could crash and burn, or she might just be curious, no, _eager_ , enough to step out of her comfort zone.

“Drinks?” Extending her fingers, slowly as if it was painful, Miranda drummed them against the glass top.

“Yes. You game?” He made sure he sounded non-committal, as if this was no big deal.

Looking vulnerable for a fraction of a second, Miranda raised her gaze to his. “All right. Why not? That could be…enlightening.”

Nigel stood, or rather shot up from the chair, ready to return to the chaos that was his own office. “Good. Just one more thing. Do I tell her you’re joining us?” It was an awkward question to ask, but he could tell she caught on immediately.

“No.” She closed her eyes briefly, but when she opened them, the snow queen was firmly slammed back in place. “After all, given this mess,” Miranda said and motioned toward the laptop, “I might have to cancel.”

“Got it. I’ll call you when we’re ready to leave.” Nigel merely nodded and waving to the assistants as he left Runway’s office, he wondered what his initiative would lead to.

 

XXXXX

 

“Bag. Coat.” Miranda strode through the outer office, not slowing down. The new girl ran up behind her and shoved the clutch under Miranda’s arm and tossed her coat over her shoulders.

Rounding the corner, Miranda barely noticed her employees scurrying into rooms and doing one-eighties as she walked toward the elevators. Nigel and the others were waiting for her in the lobby and when he’d mentioned calling a cab, she’d insisted they used her town car. The idea of taking a cab was entirely foreign and he should know better. Realizing she was being unfair as Nigel probably didn’t want to assume she’d give them all lift, Miranda dialed her nerves back.

She had spent part of the afternoon setting the new photographer straight, which had turned out to be an enlightening experience as he didn’t have the type of ego that was rather typical in his line of work. Instead the young man had seemed eager to learn. After hanging up with him, the day had been unproductive on her part and she knew it had everything to do with seeing Andrea again. Every time she had tried to go through her emails or place a call, her mind had gone to the mystery about Andrea’s business in HR’s office. What could have gone wrong at the Mirror? Miranda had Googled the newspaper, trying to find any clues what it might be about. The last time Andrea’s byline had been visible was two weeks ago. After finding that out, Miranda hit a wall. No explanation where one of the Mirror’s most well-liked journalists had disappeared to—or why.

Riding down in the elevator, Miranda checked her makeup in the mirror. There didn’t used to be a mirror many years ago, but Miranda had realized the models saved valuable time by being able to sort themselves out in the elevator when visiting for a go-see. Examining her reflection, she didn’t like the tension around her eyes or the way she pressed her lips together. Using one of the methods she’d accumulated over the years, when it came to putting on her game-face, she relaxed her facial muscles and made sure she looked like nothing could possibly be amiss when she exited the elevator.

Nigel, Emily, and Serena stood just inside the door, waiting. The two women virtually glowed and were holding hands. If Miranda had been the type, she would have congratulated them on finally being back together, but she had stuck to muttering “finally, we’ll get some work done around here,” when Serena returned from Brazil a couple of days ago. This had, oddly enough, made both women smile broadly and thank her.

“Roy just pulled up,” Nigel said as they exited the doors, indicating the driver in the silver Mercedes at the curb. “It’s just a couple of blocks.”

Merely nodding, Miranda slipped into the car, assuming Nigel would give Roy the address. She hoped it wasn’t going to turn out to the type of loud bar that young people frequented where you had to scream to make yourself heard. Feeling old at the thought, she pressed herself into her corner of the backseat as Emily and Serena stepped in through the opposite door.

Roy took them out into traffic with practiced ease and as it was rush hour, Miranda knew the drive would feel longer than “just a few blocks.” The thought of Andrea waiting for them there was doing strange things to her stomach. Pressing her hand against her midsection, Miranda tried to still the emotions that had clearly taken a detour there. Where was her usual superiority, her way of regarding the world along her nose and making sure everyone knew she just couldn’t care less what they thought of her, what they called her behind her back, or what they wrote on Page Six?

She felt a gentle touch, very brief, on the back of her hand and snapped her head around, ready to bite the head off whoever dared to touch her. Instead she saw Serena’s gentle expression, void of pity, thank god.

“It’ll be fine,” Serena mouthed and then returned her focus on Emily who was talking about the reshoot Miranda and she had scheduled.

So, Serena was sure things would be fine. Huh. Miranda wasn’t. In fact, she was set on it all going down in flames—or worse, being met with complete indifference. Taking a deep breath, Miranda raised her chin. Either way, she would survive. She always did.

 

XXXXX

 

Andy had checked inside the bar where they were supposed to meet, but she was of course early. She wasn’t about to sit alone at a large table as if she had spent the entire afternoon drinking her sorrows away. Surely it would seem a lot less pathetic if she waited outside. Or perhaps that was worse? God, she was driving herself insane. When had she fallen back into the habit of second-guessing herself like this? The answer to that was easy. When she agreed to meet with the Runway gang, for drinks. Grateful it wasn’t dinner, at least, Andy knew she could just leave if things got to unbearable. As if her life hadn’t been overturned as it was. She didn’t need the heartache of being reminded by her old friends of how happy, and how heartbroken, she had been while working at Runway.

To jittery to stand still, Andy walked over to the closest storefront, gazing blindly at the items displayed there. Thinking back to the meeting with Elias-Clarke’s HR department, where she had been very well received, she made herself breathe evenly. It had been a relief that the woman she’d spoken to today hadn’t worked there when Andy landed the job “a million girls would kill for” two years ago. Of course, her CV showed her short stint at Runway, but her references from the Mirror spoke for itself. Now she had a new job and a way to pay the rent while she figured out where to go from here.

Andy had a feeling Nigel and the others would not give her the third agree, well, possibly Emily as the British woman had no tact whatsoever, especially if she’d had a few drinks. Still debating whether to answer in detail, skip the gist of the matter, or simply remember a made-up prior engagement if this happened, Andy was driving herself crazy while waiting.

She saw the reflection of a car pulling up in the storefront window. Turning, she froze in place where she stood. It was a silver Mercedes town car and Nigel just stepped out of the front passenger seat and opened the backseat door. Andy blinked repeatedly, which made what happen next look choppy like an old movie. White hair, Prada sunglasses, black coat, bloodred clutch, stunning legs, black four-inch heels. Elegance. Heartbreak. Miranda.

 

XXXXX

 

Things were much worse than she’d ever expected. Miranda watched Andrea walk next to Nigel, who had whisked her into the bar before she bolted. Thankfully, it was a quite classy establishment that played music at a level where one could indulge in conversation across the table without a megaphone.

Andrea wore black slacks, a white button-down shirt, a long, weathered leather coat, and the same color ankle boots. Miranda approved, but she also noticed how deeply Andrea had shoved her hands into the deep pockets. The blinding smile that Miranda had grown so fond of had still to appear. Instead, Andrea was pale and looked serious.

As they reached their table, which Nigel had assured her was in a corner and as much out of the way as possible, Miranda saw clear signs of Andrea’s nerves. Hugging Serena and Emily, she gave a tense smile, but it died as she turned to Miranda.

“Hello, Miranda. What a surprise,” Andrea said and remained rooted in place where she stood, which would not do, of course.

“Andrea,” Miranda said and stepped closer, kissing the air next to Andrea’s cheek. “It’s been too long.” She felt, rather than saw, Andrea flinch.

“Two years.” Andrea pulled back some, but her breathing was less staccato. “Yes, a long time.”

“Why don’t we sit down?” Nigel said and the width of his smile told Miranda that he too was affected by the nervous energy between her and Andrea.

Miranda made sure she sat across from Andrea. She needed the physical distance, but also craved the opportunity to study her. She used to know this face so well. If Andrea had known how she studied her in secret, imprinted every facial feature until the pain under her sternum grew too much to bear. Then she would take a break and recuperate until she couldn’t stop herself the next time. It was strange how she never developed a protection toward the effect Andrea had on her.

A waitress showed up and took their drink orders. Miranda hadn’t planned on having anything stronger than a glass of wine, but the bottomless depth in Andrea’s eyes made her change her mind. She never used alcohol as a crutch, not after having lived with an alcoholic for years, but she realized she wanted a whisky. Andrea order a glass of red wine, and so did Serena. Emily and Nigel loved their margueritas, and of course Emily had to pick something pink and sweet. No doubt this would make her stick to cheese cubes for several days even if she wasn’t as insane about being a size zero anymore.

“So, did you get the job?” Emily asked and bumped her shoulder to Andrea’s.

Serena and Nigel exchanged wide-eyed glances. Miranda kept her gaze on Andrea who had raised her glass to her lips but now lowered it again.

“Yes. Yes, I did, Em.” Andrea seemed to relax some. “I start on Monday.”

“Which publication?” Serena looked relieved.

“Storyline. As a junior editor and potentially a contributor.” Sipping from her wine, Andrea cleared her throat. “And I hear you’ve been promoted, Em.”

“I have.” Emily preened. “Serena too. Why did you leave the Mirror?”

“Emily.” Miranda raised her hand. “Why don’t we let Andrea decide what to share, or not.”

Andrea snapped her head back to look at Miranda. The cognac hue in her brown eyes had returned and brightened them. At any other time, it could have been entertaining to see Andrea this confused, but not now. Was she trying to figure out if Miranda was entirely uninterested in her answer, or if Miranda was trying to protect her? But surely Andrea would realize that Miranda wouldn’t be here if she didn’t care?

“It’s all right. Thank you. I loved many aspects of working for the Mirror, but when the downsides start to drown out all the good, it is time to move on.” She was answering Emily but kept looking at Miranda.

“Did someone treat you bad?” Serena asked gently.

“No. Well, not really.” Andrea squirmed and lowered her gaze to her glass that twirled slowly between her fingers. “I was getting so many interesting assignments that I didn’t notice that I did at least thirty percent more work than my peers. My male peers. It started happening after we had a new editor-in-chief and it took me a while to realize it. When I brought it up, not to complain since I loved the job, but I was starting to burn out, the opposite happened. I got fewer assignments and no matter how I worked at it, it didn’t get better.”

“This sounds insane,” Nigel said, his eyes dark.  “You’re an amazing journalist.”

“I know I’m good.” Andrea squared her shoulders. “That’s not it. It was all about—”

“Office politics,” Miranda said. She had listened to Andrea and the others and as fury stirred in her chest, she kept her calm, but was also taking mental notes. “This new individual clearly doesn’t know how to develop talent and create room for them to grow. If they’d been good at their job, they’d nurtured their best people and definitely made sure the work environment wasn’t toxic.” She looked at the stunned faces around the table. “Oh, please. I’m not comparing this to keeping second assistants waiting for the book, or doing coffee runs. They work for me for a year or two before they move onto bigger, better things. My feature authors and editors—that’s different.”

“True.” Nigel said. “Though, any print media is cutthroat business these days. It’s not an excuse for running a young reporter into the ground, but it can be part of the explanation. Still, that doesn’t explain about the retaliatory action they took when you voice a concern, Six.”

Miranda agreed. No matter what, if someone in her office was in danger when it came to their health, physical or mental, Elias-Clarke had an excellent program which she fully supported. She hadn’t always, she was ashamed to admit, but you had to be completely oblivious if you didn’t realize that the stigma that used to come with these matters was changing. Andrea’s former boss would learn of this very soon.

“Storyline is a new magazine, but their articles and novels are of high quality.” Miranda nodded. “They’re lucky to have you.”

Andrea slumped back toward the backrest. “Th-thank you.” And there it was. The blinding smile that had been missing from Miranda’s life for two years. “This morning, I envisioned going back to Cincinnati and now—now I have a new job and you’re all here.”

“We sure are,” Nigel said and emptied his glass and waved the waitress over. “I don’t know about you, but I need another one.”

Miranda was tempted, but the whisky she had downed was enough. She sat in silence, content in regarding the others as they talked about old times. Some of the stories were poking fun of her, but she didn’t mind. They even seemed to have forgotten about her presence, which suited her fine. She just wanted to sit there and absorb as much of her secret Andrea-watching as she could. Ironically it still hurt just as badly after a while, but it didn’t stop her from drinking in the image of the woman she harbored such conflicting feelings for.

An hour later, Miranda couldn’t take it anymore. If she sat there watching Andrea any longer, she would crumble. When there was a natural lull in the conversation, she patted Nigel’s shoulder. “This has been lovely, but I need to get home.” Standing up, she nodded at Emily and Serena. “Enjoy your weekend now that you’re both in the same country.” It was rather funny how this simple remark made both of them gape before thanking her and returning the sentiment.

“I’m going to go as well,” Andrea said and rose as well. “It’s been great to catch up, but it’s been a tough day.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “I better spend the weekend getting my act together.”

Miranda rounded the table and fully meant to merely say goodbye, wish Andrea well, and then call Roy who was parked in the vicinity. Instead she found herself saying, “Why don’t I drive you home?”


	2. Chapter 2

Andy could hardly believe it. She was in the backseat of a town car with Miranda. Two years after her not-very-professional exit, she was back, in a sense.

“Thank you,” she said, knowing all too well that she was repeating herself, which of course Miranda hated, but she was trying to jumpstart her voice and find her bearings.

“It’s on the way.” Miranda spoke noncommittally.

“Not really.” Andy had to smile. Talk about exaggerating. They were going in the opposite direction of Miranda’s townhouse.

Miranda didn’t comment at first. She merely looked out the window as if the passing streetlights were of a particular interest. Her white hair gleamed expensively with each one, so in a way, Andy could relate. How many times had she dreamed of running her fingers through that beautiful hair, or even when it was limp and Miranda sat makeup-less on a couch in Paris, clutching divorce papers that her drunken now ex-husband Stephen had overnighted to her. Perhaps Andy had felt the closeness especially then, when Miranda had seemed, well, _real_. That didn’t take away how sexy and stunning she looked when she was in full dragon mode. But was she that now? Andy didn’t think so. Outwardly, Miranda was immaculate, but she seemed pensive and, something more, distant in a way, perhaps?

“Have you forgiven me, Andrea?” Miranda turned her focus to Andy unexpectedly.

Andy flinched. “W-what? For what?”

“For Paris. For Nigel. For being me, I suppose?” Miranda was rigid but seemed to truly want to know.

“I could ask the same thing. I mean, if you’ve forgiven me.” Andy wasn’t ready to even try to answer Miranda’s question.

“For leaving?” Miranda frowned. “Cause and effect. I’m used to that. I mean, people leave me all the time.” She swallowed and averted her eyes. “I could tell you were shocked at my version of ‘office policy’. Nigel was hurt, but he understood. It took a while, but I did make it up to him in the end.”

“He said you would. Within five seconds, he said so.” Andy didn’t recount how unsure Nigel still had been, despite his brave words.

“He did?” Miranda chuckled mirthlessly. “He’s always been such a loyal friend. As his friend, I was certain I would do right by him, but as his boss—” Miranda shrugged.

“I was furious. When you compared us, it—it actually frightened me. I didn’t want to see myself that way.”

Miranda jerked as if Andy had slapped her. “Like me.”

“No. Well, not quite. Like someone who could do that when their back was against the wall. I know. I was naïve. God knows what we can resort to if we’re pressured enough.” Andy sighed and tilted her head back. “I had a lot going on then, privately, and I felt so guilty already since I was in Paris and Emily wasn’t. It was her dream. Not mine. And then when you—” Andy broke off, unable to continue. If she did, Miranda would know too much, and she wasn’t ready for that.

“When I what?” Miranda’s voice was stark now, so unlike the soft, silky murmur that was her usual way of talking. Her vowels sounded harder and her consonants more pronounced.

“Let’s just say, I was confused and messed up in general and those days in Paris put everything under a microscope. I had to leave, but I wish I would have been more mature about it and given proper notice. I shouldn’t have left you in the middle of everything like that. I’m sorry.” There. Some of what had plagued Andy’s mind was out in the open.

“You are forgiven. Regardless of my reputation, I don’t hold grudges.”

Andy blinked and raised her head. “Just like that?”

“No. Not really, just like that.” Miranda played with her phone, turning it over and over between her hands. “It’s been two years. I had no hope of ever seeing you again and now that you’re here…” Turning her face toward the streetlights again, Miranda quieted.

Andy’s mind whirled and she tried to stop the words that kept spinning faster and faster. What could Miranda mean by ‘no hope’. As in she would have wanted to talk to Andy? But why? Andy had been so certain that Miranda despised her after her stunt in Paris, but the way Miranda acted now, and the way she looked, told a different story.

“Now that we’ve reconnected, perhaps this is a good chance to level with each other?” Andy heard herself ask. “Unless two years is too long. I mean, if you rather just leave things be.” Angry at herself for sounding so incoherent, she turned within the confines of the seatbelt and placed a hand carefully on Miranda’s.

Turning her head slowly, Miranda regarded her with wide eyes. “What are you saying, Andrea?”

“That we’re both holding back, or, at least I am. Perhaps it would be better if we were upfront and not so—guarded.” Or maybe this was the worst idea that she’d ever had. Any time now, Miranda was going to tell Roy to stop and Andy would have to hail a cab after all.

“Why?” Miranda was not going to make things easy, that much was clear.

“If you have to ask that, I mean, for real, then perhaps that says it all.” Andy knew she was recoiling, but she was close to sharing a lot about herself—and if it was going to be one-sided, she had to know.

“Giving up so soon?” Miranda smiled and at least it wasn’t her alligator smile that showed she was ready to sprinkle you with parsley and eat you for lunch.

A slow burning anger erupted in Andy’s chest. “I’m not interested in playing games. I am, however, ready to hear you out if you’re ready to be honest.”

“Excellent.” Miranda leaned forward and pressed the button that lowered the privacy screen. “Roy. Drive directly to the townhouse.” She raised the screen back up.

“Wow.” Andy could only look at Miranda who now studied her phone with great interest—or as a way of keeping it together. Andy had been known to do the same.

“You did mean what you said, didn’t you?” Miranda murmured without looking up.

“I did. I just didn’t realize it would happen instantly.”

This made Miranda snort softly. After that they sat in silence as Roy drove them through the busy Manhattan streets to Miranda’s house where just about anything could happen.

XXXXX

 

Miranda held out her hand for Andrea’s leather coat and then hung it in the foyer closet. Motioning for her guest to come with her to the den that was located just inside the kitchen, she pointed at the side table holding an assortment of decanters. “Pour me a whisky and get whatever you want, please.” She continued into the kitchen and crossed over to the icemaker. Filling a bucket, she stealthily took an ice cube and pressed against the inside of her left wrist and then a second cube and pressed it to the right one. Her heart was beating too fast and she was too hot. Perhaps she should change? The ridiculous idea of slipping into something comfortable before entertaining her former second assistant nearly made her laugh out loud. How cliché. How trite.

Returning to Andrea with the ice bucket, she found a glass of whisky waiting for her and Andrea was sipping a glass of port. “Good.” Dropping two ice cubes in her whisky, Miranda took a sip and the smooth single malt slid down her throat like coarse velvet, if there was such a thing.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Andrea was still standing and now shifted back and forth, clearly not entirely comfortable either.

“I’m not. Nervous, perhaps, but that’s to be expected. Please. Sit down.” Miranda lowered herself onto the couch. To her surprise, Andrea sat down next to her. She had expected her to choose the arm chair—at a safe distance.

“How so, expected?” Andrea asked. She took another sip and then placed the crystal glass delicately on a coaster at the center of the marble coffee table. Miranda hid a smile. Knowing the way Andrea feared her own clumsiness two years ago, she could tell not a lot had changed in that regard. No doubt Andrea thought Miranda would strangle her if she broke a glass.

“My track record in communicating emotions are not stellar, as you may realize. And this, leveling with each other, to quote you, can backfire. Yes, yes. You can argue that things would not be worse than before, but that wouldn’t be true. Not for me. Hence my apprehension.” Miranda mimicked Andrea and placed her glass on the coffee table as well.

“What would be different this time?” Andrea leaned sideways against the backrest, her voice so warm and kind, it made Miranda want to do the same, but she remained ramrod straight where she sat.

“Failure now would mean a missed opportunity that, if I had gotten it right, could have given me another chance.” Too much, too soon? Not judging from the light in Andrea’s eyes. Perhaps this was it. Not hedging so much, not second-guess, or play it safe. She never did that when it came to Runway, but it was her method of operation when it came to personal relationships. The difference was that with Runway, the risks were quantifiable, to a degree. When it came to the people she cared about, the risk of losing them made everything inside her come to a screeching halt. And yes, of course she cared about this girl.

“It’s okay to screw up. I mean, as long as there’s a will to work things out.” Andrea studied her for a moment. “And I’m prepared to do that, Miranda. I wouldn’t be here, in your home, if I wasn’t. By the way, where are the girls?”

“On a school trip to Toronto.” Miranda answered automatically as she used most of her brain to try and decipher Andrea’s words. “They’ll be home on Sunday evening.”

“Okay.” Andrea flipped her long hair over her shoulder in an automatic gesture. “So, we have some time.”

“We do.” Miranda’s breath caught. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you’re in my den.”

“Me too. Last time I was here, I brought you the Book and stuttered every other syllable.” Smiling, Andrea covered her eyes for a moment. “You have no idea what a victim of mixed emotions I was back then.”

“Which emotions did the mix consist of?” Slowly, Miranda forced her body to lean against the backrest. She pressed a pillow behind her aching back.

“Dread, for fear of screwing up. For potentially hurting Emily. Anger, for being put on the spot by you.” Andrea kicked off her shoes and pulled one leg up under her. “And desire,” she said, whispering.

Miranda thought her heart might just have skipped enough beats to qualify for a cardiac event. Then it picked up speed and infused every capillary in her cheeks. “Desire?” she murmured.

“Yes. By then, that last time in your den, that part was pretty well established.” Andrea swallowed visibly. “This is a good opportunity for you to reassure me that you’re not going to freak out.”

Miranda responded without thinking. Grabbing Andrea’s left hand in her right, she squeezed it tight. “I’m not freaking out.”

Andrea clung to Miranda’s hand, looking up at the ceiling, blinking hard. “Thank you.”

“I too have memories of that last den moment.” Miranda cleared her throat. “I could tell I’d just thrown you such a curve ball. It was in part deliberate as I was always evaluating you and Emily. Then, it was partly because I really thought you were the best for the job.” Not sure how to continue, Miranda tried to stave off panic by offering the truth. “And because I desperately needed you with me.”

 

XXXXX

 

Andy could hardly take the words in. “How do you mean, desperate?” She was still holding onto Mirandas impossibly smooth and youthful hand.

“I knew my marriage was ending. It had ben going in that direction for quite some time, and yet, all I could think of was you.” Miranda laced her fingers together with Andy’s.

“Oh, God.” Andy nearly forgot to breathe.

“Yes.”

“Was I that obvious?” Andy had to ask.

Miranda frowned and tugged Andy closer by lowering her hand between them. “Obvious about the desire? How can you ask that? I don’t even find it obvious now that you’ve told me. I’m still not sure what you mean, exactly.” Sounding more frustrated than annoyed, Miranda glare at her.

“Please.” Andy had to make Miranda dial down some of the pent-up frustration. She slid closer and moved her free hand to Miranda’s cheek. “I wanted you then—and I want you now.” Andy knew she was placing her heart on a chopping block and handing Miranda a chef’s knife.

Miranda stared at her for painfully long seconds. Then she tugged at Andy’s hand and pulled her in for a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare take that back,” she growled against Andy’s ear. “You can’t say something like that and then take it back.”

Who had done that to this amazing woman? Stephen? James, the first husband? Someone in between those two jerks? Or was Miranda’s words born from something Andy had said two years ago?

“It’s the truth.” Andy turned her head and pressed her lips against Miranda’s velvety cheek. Overwhelmed by Miranda’s scent and the way her skin felt under Andy’s lips, she tried to explain. “It’s how I felt then and nothing much has changed.”

Miranda trembled and Andy tightened her arms around her. Miranda had been the one pulling her in, but Andy was the one prolonging the hug. This was something that had filled her daydreams for years. No matter who she went out with in a desperate attempt at erasing the heartache of missing Miranda, this was what she needed to feel something real. When she admitted to herself that she thought of Miranda when allowing others to kiss her, or even when she had sex, she simply stopped doing either ten months ago. Ten months without being physically close to anyone. No wonder she was unwilling to let go of Miranda now that the woman she had never been able to get out of her system no matter how she tried.

“Andrea.” Miranda turned her head and then their lips met.

Andy whimpered and then the last of her self-control evaporated. She tilted her head to the side and parted her lips just enough to taste Miranda’s breath. Pushing her fingers carefully into Miranda’s hair, she kept her in place, mindful of every nuance between them. How could Miranda’s hair feel so silky despite all the hairspray? And how was it Miranda allowed her to mess up the meticulously styled locks to begin with? These questions buzzed in the back of Andy’s mind, but the main part of her brain could only process the fact that Miranda was kissing her back.

And Miranda hummed. She pressed her lips against Andy’s with far less trepidation and the soft, vibrating sound she made traveled through Andy’s lips and permeated her entire system. By now void of lipstick, Miranda’s lips felt amazing. She tasted a little bit of the expensive whisky and a lot of herself and Andy wanted nothing but to slip her tongue in between the lips that could utter such scathing words. Right now, thought, Miranda flung her arms around Andrea’s neck and held her closer. She nipped at Andy’s lower lip with her teeth, tugging at it gently, but insistently. “Allow me in, Andrea?” she whispered after letting go, her words and her breath hot against Andy’s mouth.

“Oh, god.” Andy ran her tongue along Miranda’s lips and was granted access immediately. The moment she felt the tip of Miranda’s tongue against her own she began to shake. How could kissing this woman make her feel more than any sex she’d ever had? This was worrisome and wonderful at the same time. Andy could easily drown in Miranda, lose herself willingly.

Miranda pushed her soft, eager hands in under Andy’s shirt and flattened against her back. Andy pulled back, broke the kiss despite the pain it ignited. Looking into Miranda’s narrowed eyes, she gasped for air when she saw the vulnerability mixed with desire. Was Miranda just as afraid of this going south as Andy was?

“Too fast?” Miranda said, her voice husky and completely without its usual preciseness and diction. Instead she almost slurred the words and her hands kept moving up and down Andy’s back.

“No…and yes.” Andy slid her hands out of Miranda’s hair and framed her face. “If this was just about lust and sex, and nothing’s wrong with that, I’d be tearing your clothes off right now. But for me, it’s more. I’ve dreamed about this for so long and it may sound sappy, but I refuse to mess this up. This. You and I on this couch, is eerily close enough to my dreams and…damn it…” Wiping at some tears that dislodged from her eyelashes, Andy groaned. “I didn’t want to cry.”

Miranda pulled her hands free and wiped at Andy’s tears with her thumbs. “I’ve seen you cry on my account before.” She placed two kisses on each of Andy’s cheeks. “I loathe that I was ever responsible.”

Andy nuzzled her face against Miranda’s neck. “And I hated to see you cry in Paris. I wanted to be there for you, to comfort you, but I never, in million years, thought you’d want me to. I was so close to moving to your side of the table and hug you.”

“And I sent you away.” Her hands were back under Andy’s shirt. “I had to, of course, but it pained me. A lot during that fashion week seems to have been about pain, for both of us.”

“Yes.” Andy’s skin was on fire and she kissed Miranda’s lips again. The base of her skull was on fire and she trembled as she unfastened the top button in Miranda’s blouse. Pulling back, Andy saw the wild pulsations on Miranda’s neck where her carotid hammered under her pale skin. “Damn…Miranda…this might be going too fast. It’s like—I feel I have to do all at once, seize the moment while I have the chance since I never know if I’ll ever see you again, and if I don’t take the chance now…”

“Andrea—”

Andy put a hand over her trembling lips. She was not making sense. Miranda must think she was losing it. “And it’s not right. You deserve something more than frenzied groping on a couch—”

“Andrea.” Miranda moved her hands to Andy’s upper arms and shook her lightly, oddly enough smiling faintly. “This is not the last time you see me. If you harbor any ideas that I’m going to declare you persona non grata because of, what did you call it, a frenzied groping session? Then you are mistaken. You just came back. I just have you here, in my life, after two miserable years of regrets and futile thoughts of ‘what if’. No matter what happens tonight, believe me, you won’t get rid of me that easily.” She pressed her lips to Andy’s hard enough to nearly bruise them, but Andy welcomed the assertiveness. It broke through her near-panic.

“I can’t imagine going back to not seeing you,” Andy said after clearing her throat. She relaxed into Miranda’s arms and ran her left arm up and down Miranda’s. “As soon as I saw you today, I figured I was in for a world of hurt. Now that I’m not, I’m honestly not sure how to maneuver. It’s like I’m floating, with no ability to choose a direction.”

Miranda sat in silence for a few moments, kissing the top of Andy’s head every now and then. “I agree that it’s too soon for some things. We’ve both got a lot to share with each other to reach a deeper understanding about how we feel. Can we just reassure each other that we’re both free to pursue these feelings? I need to know we have an honest foundation for whatever comes next.”

Andy tipped her head back. “There is nobody else for me. There hasn’t been for a long time.”

Miranda’s expression softened and then she smiled broadly. “Likewise. I’m free to act on my feelings. What bliss.” She held Andy close and kissed her gently. “Can I persuade you to stay the night? I have guest rooms, or you can sleep in my bed, if you’re all right with it. I just don’t want us to be apart.” Her smile died as she looked cautiously at Andy.

For Andy, it was unfathomable that Miranda would put so much power into Andy’s hands. This was virtually Miranda opening herself up for possible rejection and if nothing else had convinced Andy of Miranda’s true intentions, this did.

“I’ll be happy to stay, in any room, or any bed.” Andy drew a trembling breath. “And as much as I think we should move slowly—”

“Being this close will test our resolve.” Chuckling quietly, Miranda nudged Andy’s forehead with her own.

“Yes. That.” Andy settled in and held Miranda close, allowing her body to calm down, to a degree, while she went over the day in her mind. Going from feeling lost, angry, and nervous before the interview at HR, to stunned and panicked at the bar, and end up in Miranda’s arms with them navigating toward a tentative future together because it was what they wanted. “This is amazing.” Andy closed her eyes and inhaled Miranda’s signature scent.

“I agree.” Miranda kissed Andy’s temple.

As they sat there on the couch, Miranda pressed a few buttons on a remote, dimming the lights, and igniting a fire in the gas fueled fireplace. Andy supposed they’d order something to eat, or even cook themselves, later, but for now, she was in the arms of the woman she had loved for years. Speaking of such depth of emotion was too soon, but she knew it wouldn’t take long for the words to burst out of her. The way Miranda kept touching her, running her fingers through her hair or up and down her arm, spoke more of her emotions than all the heated kisses before. Andy smiled. Tenderness and desire—the best of both worlds.

“What are you thinking about?” Miranda murmured against Andy’s temple.

Andy turned her head and kissed Miranda’s jawline. “You.”

“Andrea…” Miranda tilted her head to the side, allowing more access. “You’re already proven to be irresistible. I believe you cast a spell on me already two years ago.”

“If I did, so did you, on me.” Andy kissed a hot trail down Miranda’s neck. “Guess we’re both doomed.”

Miranda’s gasp at the kisses morphed into a chuckled. “We are.”

How odd that it would be the person she once feared and found impossible to please that made Andy feel safe in this moment. Whereas Andy had felt like she was freefalling only a few hours ago; here, on Miranda’s couch, she had touched down and was anchored by Miranda’s arms.

 

XXXXX

 

_Sunday evening_

Miranda listened to the voices coming from the tv-room where Andrea was watching a movie with the twins. Miranda had joined them for a while, but then excused herself. Andrea had shot her a glance, but Miranda merely made a gesture for her to remain with the girls.

Caroline and Cassidy had been surprised and thrilled to find Andrea visiting them. It had taken her girls about half an hour to update Andrea on what had happened in their lives these last two years. Andrea had patiently listened to her children, asked questions, and laughed at their jokes until she had to wipe tears from her cheeks.

And Miranda kept falling deeper and deeper in love with Andrea with each passing moment. This was part of the reason why she was now in her office upstairs. She sat down at her laptop and pulled up her contacts. Browsing through them, she took her cell phone and dialed.’

“Elsa Barrow,” a well-modulated female voice said. “Miranda?”

“Hello, Elsa. I’m dreadfully sorry for disturbing you on a Sunday evening, but this will only take a moment.” Miranda leaned back in her office chair.

“I always have time for you, dear,” the older woman said. “How can I help you?”

“I want to direct your attention to a developing situation at the Mirror,” Miranda said. “In this day and age, you can’t be to careful and I have on good authority that your new editor-in-chief doesn’t have his hand on the ball when it comes to workplace politics.”

“Oh?” Elsa was too seasoned to let on if Miranda’s words startled her.

“Yes. I would never presume to tell you how to conduct business, but as chairman of the board of your publishing house, I imagine you at least want to be aware of the situation before it becomes public knowledge. I know you’ve already lost a force to be reckoned with when your editor-in-chief abused their talent and work ethic. It would be a shame if it happened again.”

There was a prolonged pause, but Miranda waited patiently for the coin to drop at the other end.

“I see. Well, I’m grateful for the heads up. You and I both know what it was like to break into a man’s world. I assume the force to be reckoned with is a woman?”

“You will find out for yourself, I’m sure, Elsa. As a trailblazer in your own right, I know you’ll handle the situation at the Mirror.” Miranda allowed her voice to soften. “I’ll owe you one.”

Elsa Barrow chuckled. “Now, that’s money in the bank.”

After a few polite words, they hung up. Miranda rose and walked back toward the TV room. She stopped in the doorway and watched her very own microcosm personified by the three people in there. Just then, Andrea looked up and raised her eyebrows in a clear question.

Miranda merely smiled. “Any room for me on that couch or are you going to make me sit on the floor?”

The girls giggled and Andrea scooted to the side where she sat between the twins, making Caroline move one seat to the left. “Right here, please,” Andrea said.

As Miranda sat down, Cassidy leaned her head against her shoulder. Andrea gently brushed her hand against Miranda’s, while Caroline snuggled closer from her end.

Miranda pretended to watch the movie. In her mind, she dared to hope that this was how her future might be like. Ordinary, mundane family life.

If so—what bliss.

 

* * *

 

END

 

 


End file.
